The Review

Artists perform in a tension of control and release.  
Performances are something put to the crowd 
	then wished back.
Reviews are opinions well-dressed for a night out 
	with years of knowing or some just fans.

The amphitheatre was not packed but personal.  The lawn
	had picnics.  The sun had set and Mr. Prine
	was singing the songs with his sad brio.  
	One never knew exactly, to take him at his word or think him ironic 
	though in the end, with an artist such as Mr. Prine
	you want the heartache.



She sat alone in front of me, off to the side, and I sat alone
	behind her, able to see the edge of her face.

Mr. Prine sang and strummed his guitar.

She wept and clapped softly, filled and thrilled 
	by Mr. Prine's offhand pathos.  That is it:

He takes you into the sweet cut of his songs 
	rhyming and chiming like symbols of gongs.

Magnificently we went home.





© Copyright 2007 Peter Chapman

Home